The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(38)

He ignored the annoying pup jumping at his heels and stared into the darkness, letting her know she’d been discovered.

A moment later, she stepped out from behind the post. “Sir Arthur,” she said brightly, but her hands twisting in her skirts gave her away. “What a surprise! Squire and I were just going for a walk and ... uh, the door was open, and he must have wanted to see you because he came in here before I could stop him, and—”

She stopped, gazing up at his face. Her cheeks paled before filling with a nervous flush.

Until that moment, he’d forgotten that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

But the foolish lass didn’t have the good sense to look away or at least pretend not to notice; she stared—blatantly—and he could read exactly what she was thinking.

Jesus.

The air between them went hot. He could feel her awareness, not just in embarrassment but in something far more potent: arousal.

She stooped to pick up the dog. “Y-y-you’re busy. We were just leaving—”

“Stay,” he ordered the infernal beast, before it could jump into her arms. The mangy little blighter had better not try to piss on him again.

Both Anna and the dog froze at the sound of his voice. And both of them looked at him with that blasted innocent expression on their faces. He didn’t know which one of them was more trouble.

But it was the lass who concerned him now. He caught her arm and hauled her up against him. “What were you really doing here, Lady Anna?”

“Nothing, I ...” Her gaze dropped guiltily to the pile of things on his bed.

His blood went cold. He glanced down to where he’d left the map, relieved to see that it was undisturbed. Some of his other things, however, looked askew.

Suddenly it hit him. Was that what this was about? Had her interest in him merely been a pretext for spying? God’s blood, it made perfect sense now. Lorn had used his daughter to keep an eye on him. He’d laugh at the irony, if he weren’t so furious.

“You were spying on me,” he said flatly. “Is that why you’ve been shadowing me since I arrived? Did your father ask you to watch me?”

She gasped. A pink flush rose to her cheeks—guilt or outrage, he didn’t know. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She swallowed nervously. “I haven’t been shadowing you, and I certainly wasn’t spying.”

She was lying. If she were a man she’d be dead right now for what she’d done. He could snap her neck with one hand. God, did she think this was some kind of game? If she were to somehow learn the truth ...

He was supposed to protect his cover at all costs, so he’d better damn well make sure that never happened. He could never hurt her.

He inched her closer, feeling her tremble against him. Even through the mist of anger he could smell the soft, heady perfume of her skin. Desire closed around him like a vise.

The lass had no idea of the danger she was in—and not just from her spying. She was completely at his mercy. She didn’t know how damned close he was to taking advantage of the situation. They were alone. In the candlelight. Her body was pressed against his naked chest and the bed was right there—ready for them to fall on. If he was inclined to use a bed. Right now the wall was looking good.

His muscles tensed. Restraint was getting harder and harder to hold on to. “Then is there another reason I find you in my bed?”

Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t in your bed,” she replied indignantly. “You weren’t here. Squire was anxious to see you and I was merely curious.” Her chin lifted. “Perhaps if you were more forthcoming, I wouldn’t be so curious.”

Arthur was stunned. Had the chit actually managed to blame him for her nosing through his things? The adeptness of a woman’s logic would never cease to amaze him.

“Did you appease your curiosity?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “Nay.” Her gaze dropped to his arm. “Is that a tattoo on your arm?”

It was a testament to his control that the curse that came to his head didn’t slip out of his mouth. The Lion Rampant on his arm was the one outward link he had to the Highland Guard, intended as both a bond between the warriors and a means of identification should the need ever arise. He kept it hidden to prevent questions and tried to bathe and change his underclothing when others weren’t around.

The last thing he needed was for Anna MacDougall to see it.

But she had. Knowing the harm had already been done, he said, “Aye. A remnant of my days as a squire.”

“I’ve never seen one before.”

Before she could examine it further—and, God forbid, touch him again as she looked as though she was about to do—he released her, leaned down, pulled a clean shirt from the pile of clothing, and jerked it over his head.

Covering his nakedness should have eased some of the tension, but the innocent lass didn’t have the good sense to mask her disappointment, and his blood heated all over again.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said roughly.

“Afraid I’ll trap you in a compromising situation, Sir Arthur?”

He knew she was teasing, but he was in no mood for games. The lass put far too much store in his honor as a knight. He was a Highlander—he played by his own rules. And right now it was taking everything he had not to teach her a lesson about the limits of a man’s restraint.